


Cardiovascular

by thirty2flavors



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Romance, post-JE fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/pseuds/thirty2flavors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Had she managed to fall asleep, or did she feel as restless as he did? Was she okay? Was she angry with him? How badly did she regret travelling all that way to wind up with a consolation prize?</i><br/> </p><p>In a small town just out of Bergen, the new Doctor goes for a walk to clear his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cardiovascular

The Doctor was terrified.

It was an odd sensation, being scared liked this. It was different from the type of fear he was used to – the fear of death or Daleks or being unable to prevent some sort of catastrophe. That particular brand of fear was so much a part of his everyday life that he was quite used to it, and more than able to channel it into genius or productivity or adrenaline. He’d lived with that sort of fear so often, for so long, that some people probably thought he liked it. It was a motivator, something that kept him running even when he otherwise might have stopped.

This was different. This was terrifying.

He laid on his back atop the hotel bed sheets, staring up at the ceiling through the dark. The room was silent apart from his own breathing and the perpetual drip-drip coming from the bathroom sink. Some part of him – some human part – thought that probably he should go to sleep. He could almost feel it, that unfamiliar sense of physical exhaustion, and he knew from years of observation that human bodies tended to perform poorly without rest. If he didn’t sleep now, he’d have to the next day, and likely for longer. It would be optimal to sleep now.

But his stomach was a tight, uncomfortable knot, his heart felt like it might burst from his chest, and he couldn’t seem to turn off the dozen questions playing on loop in his mind. Could he really live like a human? Who was he, really, without the TARDIS? What would he do each day, stuck in the same place and time?

What the hell would he do if Rose decided she didn’t want him?

The anxiety in his stomach seemed to peak, and he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The hotel room felt impossibly small and much too quiet. He missed the hum of the TARDIS engines and the feel of her lingering on the fringes of his mind. He needed air, he needed space, he needed...

He stared at the wall behind his bed, imagining Rose in the room on the other side. She’d chosen to share her mother’s room, and though he wanted to respect her need for space, he resented the distance between them and couldn’t help but wonder. Had she managed to fall asleep, or did she feel as restless as he did? Was she okay? Was she angry with him? How badly did she regret travelling all that way to wind up with a consolation prize?

He sighed, rubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. To hell with sleeping. He had to get out. He grabbed the hotel key on his way out the door and slipped it into his pocket, next to the now-defunct TARDIS key.

—

The nighttime air was chilly, and for the first time the Doctor found himself wanting his coat for the warmth rather than the aesthetic. Being cold – that was new. He added it to his growing mental tally of physiological differences: _one heart, unable to regenerate, human lifespan, need for sleep, lower tolerance to temperature variation._

There were other differences, too, things he was finding hard to quantify. He was certain this universe had felt... different last time he was here, that there’d been a perceptible not-quite-rightness to it, like an out of tune piano: the right keys in the right place making the wrong sounds. Now it seemed that inherent wrongness was beyond his realm of perception. He was tone deaf.

Possibly that should have been a comfort. It would be awkward to spend the rest of his life feeling out of sync with the universe. At the moment, though, it was disconcerting. He felt like he’d been blindfolded.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the cool breeze, continuing down the pavement. They were spending the night in a tiny seaside town half-way to Bergen, and at such a late hour the streets were deserted. The stores and restaurants were dark, and the quiet gave the Doctor a strong sense of anonymity that he wasn’t sure he liked. Oftentimes when he travelled, anonymity was useful. It allowed him and his companions access to things and information one might otherwise keep hidden.

But now, stuck in a brand new universe with nothing more than the clothes on his back, anonymity felt lonely. Back home, there were places in the universe where his name was revered, and places where it functioned as a threat. On this brand new Earth there were only a handful of people he’d even spoken to before, and he was certain that one of them, at least, rather wished he didn’t exist.

He didn’t blame her, truthfully. Plenty of things would have been much simpler if he hadn’t been shot by that damned Dalek; his reunion with Rose would have been happy as it was meant to be, and Donna – poor, magnificent Donna...

He forced himself away from that line of thought by coming to a halt and surveying his surroundings. There was a pathway coming up on his left that would take him down closer to the beach, and further up, across the street, there looked to be a park. The beach would be nice and open, would give him the feeling of freedom and space that he was craving, and the sound of the water would be relaxing. But the thought of revisiting a beach right now made his stomach flop, so he ducked across the street and made his way towards the park.

He craned his neck upwards as he walked, staring at the sky. It was a clear night, and the stars twinkling overhead made him feel claustrophobic; there was a great big, brand new universe out there and he would never see any of it.

He was halfway through the park by the time he noticed the bench across the way, or the person sitting on it. He’d expected, perhaps naively, to be alone in his wanderings so late at night, but there was another person, sitting on the park bench, her blonde hair glowing faintly in the dim light of—

Wait.

“ _Rose_?”

She spun around on the bench to look at him and he could see her forehead crinkle in surprise. “Doctor? What are you doing here?”

“I was just... ah...” _Sulking?_ suggested a part of his mind that sounded rather like Donna.

“Did you follow me here?” She frowned, and he could hear the twinge of irritation in her voice.

“No!” He scratched the back of his neck and took a step backwards. “No, I didn’t – I was just...” Rose raised her eyebrows, and the Doctor ducked his head, staring at his shoes, feeling like an intruder. “Sorry, I’ll just... leave you alone.”

He turned on his heel and had already taken two steps when Rose called after him. “Doctor!” she called, and he stopped abruptly. “It’s all right, I mean, you don’t need to go ‘cause I’m here.” She gave a faint, empty-sounding laugh. “I didn’t reserve this bench or anything.”

The Doctor turned around but came no closer, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a small, sad smile. “You look like you want to be alone.”

Rose shrugged her shoulders, looking down at her fingers and tapping them against the back of the bench. She didn’t answer; instead she asked, “Do _you_ wanna be alone?”

The Doctor hesitated, took a breath and shook his head. “No,” he admitted quietly. “No, I really don’t.”

With a knowing frown, Rose beckoned him forward. Stomach squirming (was he honestly _scared_ of Rose Tyler?), he approached the bench and took a seat at the opposite end. Her purple leather jacket nowhere to be seen. In the simple t-shirt and the soft light, she looked closer to how he remembered her, young and pink and yellow. But her face looked older, her expression looked sadder, and as she stared out in front of them he found himself wondering just how long it had been on this side of the void.

A breeze swept across the park, and as the Doctor shivered he looked at Rose’s bare arms. “Aren’t you cold?”

She shrugged again, still staring straight ahead rather than looking at him. “I’m sick of that jacket,” she explained. “I’d take the shirt off, too, if I had anything else to put on. Been wearing it for weeks. I dunno how you do it.” Finally she glanced sidelong at him, eyeing his suit. “Though it looks like you’ve branched out since I was with you.”

The Doctor swallowed, suddenly wishing he’d thought to grab a brown suit rather than a blue one. “Well... not that much.” He straightened his jacket and put on a hopeful smile. “D’you like it?”

Rose’s answering smile was faint and sad. “I thought the brown was nice.”

The Doctor nodded, staring down at his hands. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly.

A minute passed in silence while the Doctor fiddled with the bottom of his jacket. He was beginning to regret staying outside. It was true that he didn’t want to be alone, but this—being so close to Rose and still feeling like she was a universe away... This was worse. He shifted on the bench and rubbed his hands together, trying to dream up some excuse to escape just after he’d asked to stay. He could tell her he was tired after all, or that he was cold, or...

He couldn’t seem to find his voice.

“The stars are back,” said Rose, pulling him from his reverie. She tipped her head back, watching the sky while the Doctor watched her. “When I left there were barely any. Just darkness. Now...” She shrugged – just the tiniest hitch of her shoulders – and the corner of her mouth twitched in a near-smile. “It’s like it never happened.”

“We stopped the Reality Bomb.” He followed her gaze to the stars, mentally cataloguing the the constellations. Were they different here? “Everything’s back where it should be.”

He looked over at her in time to see the expression on her face harden, her lips pulled into a taut line. “Everything’s back where it _was_ ,” she corrected.

Wincing at the edge in her voice and once again feeling guilty, he looked down at his lap. “Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “Rose—”

“Aren’t you angry with him?” she burst out, cutting him off and sending him an incredulous stare.

The Doctor frowned. “Why would I be angry?”

“Because he left you here!” she went on. “No TARDIS, just... stuck!”

As comprehension dawned, the Doctor’s eyes widened in disbelief and he shook his head. “That’s not… he didn’t leave me anywhere. I wanted to stay.” He saw the question forming in her eyes and blurted out the answer before she could ask it. “With you.”

For a second, Rose’s mouth fell open, and her whole face seemed to soften. Brand new heart leaping into his throat, the Doctor moved microscopically closer—

Then a dark expression rolled across Rose’s face like a wave, and she turned away, scowling at the ground. Laughing bitterly, she shook her head. “Well, then, you really _must_ be different.”

“Rose…”

“You know,” she barrelled on, “I spent the better part of three years working on a way to come back.” Her voice was brittle. “All that time, and I finally get there, and he just… sends me away again. Like… like...”

She didn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence. The Doctor watched her, holding his tongue, feeling immensely stupid. His hand flexed in his lap, itching to reach for hers in comfort.

“It’s not like that, Rose,” he said gently. “He… he loves you.”

When she looked at him again, the bitterness had melted away, replaced by a look of heartbreak that was almost worse. “Then why couldn’t he say it?”

The ball of anxiety coiled tighter in his chest, and he watched her with wide eyes, begging her to understand. “I did.”

She studied him like she was solving a puzzle, eyes narrowing, forehead wrinkling. It was as though she was seeing him for the first time, and he tensed under the scrutiny. Disbelief and wariness and wonder passed over her face, all at once.

Eventually she looked down at her hands, fingers fidgeting anxiously.

“It's strange,” she said, so softly he felt himself leaning closer to catch every word. “When we were working on the Dimension Cannon, I must have pictured a hundred different ways it would go. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe I’d never get back. Maybe you’d found someone else. Maybe you’d regenerated. Maybe by the time I got back, you wouldn’t want me anymore. But this...” She shook her head. “I never pictured this.”

The Doctor forced a nervous grin. “Well, for what it’s worth, neither did I, and I’m a Time Lord.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile. “Can you still see all that? Timelines and things?”

“Sort of. It’s all gone a bit hazy.”

She nodded, then turned towards him, resting one arm up on the back of the bench, as near to his shoulder as possible without touching him. “How does it feel? Being human?”

In truth it didn’t feel all that different; this body had sprung into being with all the cogs in place, and the senses lost or muted were phantom limbs felt only in memory. The real test would come with time, without a TARDIS, when his joints grew stiff and his hair turned gray and his reality of his newfound mortality became inescapable.

“Terrifying,” he admitted.

Rose’s smile spread across her face. “Welcome to the club.”

He swallowed. Her proximity was overwhelming. Memories of the beach crowded his mind, and he was distracted by how much he wanted to reach out and close the gap between them. She’d been gone for so long, and now that she was here, he wanted nothing more than to touch her, to hold her, to cling her to like a life preserver in the uncertain waters of a brand new body in a brand new universe.

“I missed you.” The words tumbled out of his mouth by their own accord. “So much. All the time.” His heart pounded so loud in his ears it was as though he still had two. “And I’m sorry, I really am, I’m so sorry, I know this – _me_ – it’s not what you came back for, and I’ll go, if that’s what you want, but I—”

This time he didn’t have a chance to finish that sentence; for the second time that day, Rose Tyler’s mouth crashed into his. Stunned, the Doctor froze, until instinct kicked in and he surged forward, grabbing her waist and tugging her towards him. Her cold fingers slid through his hair, down his neck, along his shoulders, sending shivers down his spine like electricity, and he reached up this time, cupping her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Their knees collided as they twisted towards each other, the bench creaked beneath them and the Doctor wondered, now, how he could ever have gone so long with her in the TARDIS without doing this.

Rose pulled away first, one hand on his chest, her breath still tickling his cheek. The Doctor lingered in the moment, eyes closed, until she slipped back out of his arms.

“Doctor,” she said gently, a question and an answer rolled into one.

“Hello,” he said, throat thick.

Wind rustled through the leaves in the park, raising goosebumps on Rose’s bare arms. She shuddered and crossed her arms in front of her chest, rubbing her hands up and down along her exposed skin.

“Right, I’m freezing,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’m heading back.” She started down the path, beckoning for him to come along.

It was an innocent remark, but still the some of the lead weight settled in his stomach as he stood to follow her. Perhaps she was already regretting the kiss. She was confused, he knew, and vulnerable, and she’d been thrown into an unprecedented situation. She would be sorting it out in her head for some time, and it might well be days, or weeks, or even months before the emotional dust settled. Patience would be key, and he knew that, understood it, but….

Well, he thought he might be beginning to understand how difficult it was to love someone with a penchant for running away.

“Mum snores like you wouldn’t believe,” she said, biting her lip as she looked back over her shoulder at him. “D’you mind if I stay in your room?”

The Doctor almost tripped. “No,” he sputtered. “I mean, yeah, that’d – that’d be fine, yeah.”

“Good.”

They went another block in silence, the Doctor staring at his trainers, Rose walking a foot or so ahead of him. “Even for us,” she said eventually, “this situation is mad.”

“I know.”

She looked back at him and smiled, soft and gentle and full of enough warmth to guard against the brisk Norwegian air. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

The Doctor felt himself smile back. “Me too.” He hoped she knew how much he meant it.

Rose said nothing more; she reached back for him, fingers wiggling in invitation, and the Doctor fell into step beside her, sliding his hand into hers. For the first time since stepping off the TARDIS into this universe, the Doctor’s new heart began to relax.


End file.
